Ghosts
by believable-pen
Summary: Everyone has their own agenda, but mine was out there for everyone to pick through, like I was on show. A freak


_**Ghosts**_

Is it too much to ask for a little privacy? A little understanding? Yes, it seemed so.

Everyone has their own agenda, but mine was out there for everyone to pick through, like I was on show. A freak.

I tried hiding from them. They found me.

I tried confronting them. To no avail.

'_Fuck! Just leave me the hell alone!'_

Ghosts are a figment of our imagination.

Not true.

Ghosts are everywhere.

True.

I've seen more than my fair share in my 23 years on earth, to last me until I'm old and gray; something I'll never be. Trust me. I work for Torchwood. No one ever lives to collect their pension. Death comes early to us. Well, all except Jack Harkness. He'll live forever. Kinda like the Highlander, but no one is after his head.

Ha!

They are, but not to separate it from his shoulders.

I never thought I'd be running around Cardiff, chasing aliens. I mean, who does, right? Yet, I am out there at least two or three times a week, sometimes more, chasing Weevils and Blowfish. We even sent a Nostrovite on it's way.

Ghosts scare me even more than aliens. They are…see-thru. Transparent and I hate being in the same room with them. Give me Janet any day of the week. Her I understand, a little.

After Tad died, I saw him on a regular basic. I never told Mam or Rhi. Not that they'd believe me anyway. He'd just stand there, staring at me, a disappointed look of distain on his face. I never could please him while he was alive. Now he's dead, the look on his face is twice as bad.

I saw Lisa a few days ago. It was…heart rendering. She was dressed in brown slacks and that red sweater I bought her for her birthday. She looked beautiful. I sat there, in the archives, looking at her until I couldn't cry anymore. I had to delete the CCTV footage. I didn't want anyone to see me blubbering like a baby, over what would look like nothing to them.

I suppose I ought to tell someone, but who? Not Jack. He has enough ghosts of his own. He doesn't need mine.

I got paraletic last Thursday. Jack stood me up in favour of a few days at UNIT Headquarters, so, I got rat-arsed. My flat was full of friends who died at Canary Wharf. Bob. Clive. Rita. Rachel T. Sam. Brian. Vera. Claire. I tried to cover my eyes. To block them out. But I knew they were still there. I raised a glass…bottle actually…to them. Lost comrades and all that. They just stared at me, confusion reigned. It wasn't my fault that I lived and they died.

Sometimes, not too often nowadays, I wished I **had **died. Or was taken instead of Lisa. It just all ended before they had a chance to put me on the conversion table. I **was **next in line.

I think immersing myself in my work here at Torchwood Three, saved me. After Lisa was…I felt suicidal. I **wanted** Jack to kill me. But in a way, he saved me. From myself and I love him for that. He's been my rock. My anchor. I don't know what I would have done without his strength. I don't think I would still be alive.

I think…I hope Jack knows how much I love him. I don't ask anything in return, just for him to be there, really. I know he has trouble expressing his feelings and that's fine. I kind of understand that and accept it.

I had a conversation with Suzie three days ago. Boy, did I let rip at her. I don't usually talk to them, but she was the exception to the rule.

For three weeks, Suzie had used the 'Risen Mitten' on me. She said I had a 'connection' to it somehow. Me, a connection to an alien artefact, right.

As if, Costello!

After her suicide, I told Jack. He went ballistic and asked Owen to give me a thorough medical. It came back clear, thank God. Owen was quite pissed at Suzie, too.

Suzie never regretted killing those people. 'Part of my research' she told me. How ironic. We try to protect the world from aliens and she killed them with an alien knife!

I finally told Jack about the ghosts, too. He was sympathetic, loving and comforting. He is incredible! Such patients. I love it when he holds me all through the night and I think it helps him, too.

I don't know if he realised just how much his understanding helped me, but I know I fear the ghosts less now because of him.

I still see them, but less often and some of them are friendlier.

I hope they can all find rest and stop haunting this world.

As for me, I am content with my life. I'm happier than I've been in a long time.

Thank you, Jack.

_**THE END**_


End file.
